|
page-10
The body has expelled the mind, so that it is able to become itself. Nikita you were the first to be expelled, your character and what you desire. Your body was a tool to him. We evolved to use tools. To think that I could hold onto ropes of pain and let them go at the same time, an expert at circular breathing. No physical presence would matter now. Even in this screwed up world, where the odd bridge to the land of agony is constantly highlighted. You can see it shining out there in the twilight from the cosy compartment of the lit-up train carriage. I have contemplated the romance of train travel. But it is a pointless exercise. Everyone has their own compartment. I hope that one day the AJ who stood Nikita up goes to his own compartment, and begs and whimpers to the passing terrain, and the big long nights. We all move quickly to escape pain. We scramble, pace, shake and sob uncontrollably, like bubblers switched on with no one drinking at them. Even screaming is movement. The emotions kick out at everything. The blood pumps faster through our veins, as our arms and our legs flay the space.
Nikita was all wound up like a robot who had been smashed in, springs exposed and gone haywire. The only thing she could do was follow this mad trail of pain to its source. She snatched the car keys from the kitchen bench and fumbled at the car ignition in the night. She was determined to find him for the lies, the truth, the explanation. All of which would mean nothing. The only purpose to this excursion was the relief of emotional pain through action. She checked out her location on the local map beneath the dim interior light. She drove straight into the RAAF base, which turned out to be closer than she had thought, although hidden in a way by fan palms and a still humid darkness patrolled by guard dogs, apparently inaccessible.
Thoughts of wrong deeds, the wrong address. Mistrustful and unforgiving thoughts of nature turned bad. Or perhaps he doesn't live there at all, a mere serial liar or one who is very good at hurting people. 'Too fucking good for me, anyway,' Nikita sighed. If you couldn't trust the sincerity, or the kind of niceness he emanated, then what could you ever hope to trust? He wasn't smarmy at all. Although he had too much time on his hands. She didn't like a man with too much time on his hands, or with a cock the size of a cigarette, or devoted to food, or the kind who waits and tolerates or who talks over the top of you. Meet the man behind the life, like he might be hung up and very odd, sick and sad, but that was okay. She just didn't want him to be bad, when they had dipped into each other's genitals. After first intimacy it is always hard to separate and re-establish your identity. You take the other person with you for a while. It is hard to separate, then reunite, and separate.
Nikita had no idea of the future. She only wanted to bury her head into his armpit or his chest, like hiding from the world inside a pillow, as if she had escaped something, or perhaps just to rest, or take time out. She remained foolish to onlookers. But there's always hope. We hang onto threads, but not now. She found her way there through her own confusion, by stopping at obscure street corners and by checking out signs and numbers. She drove down the opposite road to where the security guard was based. He was smoking a cigarette and reading a newspaper. She circled his premises like a patroller because she didn't know what else to do. It wasn't that she wanted revenge specifically. He was too nice and the anger was fleeting. It was just that she needed to find a way in to somewhere. Nikita howls like a pup if you lock her soul out. Yet she remained hopelessly there, waiting for resolution, the answer to the empty space. In a way she hoped he wouldn't interfere, now that she had discovered his house. He was no longer needed at this point. She knocked just once to make sure he wasn't home. At first she had wanted him there, then quickly she felt numb. She turned the front door handle and a fat brown spider scampered along her fingers, attaching to the lacy sleeves on her wrists. It was as though it had also tried to open the wire door with its eight legs, its whole great body now as involved as she was. She flicked it off at least three times in disgust, before it jumped down her arm and dropped into the dirt. 'Ugh,' she hissed. |
